Defenseless Little Kitten
by Hoehomi-Chan
Summary: Why is Katie always getting lost? Why does her mother always clutch a spatula? Why does their elationship seem so... Fake? Katie runs away, that's why. And why does she run away? Because Katie is a victim of child abuse.
1. Chapter 1

People ask me why I keep getting lost.

"Do you have a terrible sense of direction?"

"Don't you have a map?"

"Are you clumsy?"

It's not any of that. Honest. It's not me carelessly wandering around and away from my Mommy. No, although that's what I make it out to be. No.

The reason why?

I run away. I run from my Mommy. I'll end up in some random town, be found by a random stranger who'll take me home and repeat the whole rigmarole.

Why do I run?

It's Mommy.

It's Mommy. She makes me run away.

Well, not really, she doesn't MAKE me run away. She doesn't say,

"Katie! Run away right now!"

No, I meant she is the PURPOSE of why I run away.

Why...?

I am a victim of child abuse. I'm sure you've seen my Mommy, walking around with her spatula grasped in her paws. It's not for flipping fish. It's for hitting me.

So now I'm hiding. Hiding in the wardrobe. Breathing shallowly, so Mommy can't hear.

I can hear the television buzz downstairs as Mommy watches with another glass of wine in her paws. And when the ANIMAL News finishes, she'll come upstairs, grasping that spatula, hunting me down...

The stair creaks. I jump, then huddle further into the mound of clothes. I press myself against the wooden back of the wardrobe, praying she won't find me.

"Kaaaaa-tieeee," Mommy sings from the landing. I can hear her footsteps as she creeps towards my door. "Kaaaa-tiiieee, Mommy's coming to say goodnight,"

I shiver at those words, and a tear runs down my cheek. I knew I was going to be found, eventually, and given more punishment, but I want to put it off for as long as I can...

I hear the door open and gasp quietly.

"Katie?" Mommy whispers. She seems to go across the room and check if I'm in bed. I can imagine her twitching the covers back to see.

"Katie, you naughty kitten, you're out of bed. You'll get some punishment tonight, won't you!" She pauses, as if waiting for my answer. "WON'T YOU?" She suddenly roars.

I have a horrible feeling she knows where I am. I squeeze my self tight as if in comfort. Don't find me, please don't find me...

"Katie, I know you're in here," Mommy's voice is soft yet icy. "Mommy just wants a good night kiss. Are you... Under the bed...?" I hear a creak of floorboards as she bends down to see if I'm crouched there. "Are you... Behind the arm chair?" She whips round to check. I huddle in the wardrobe's gloom, knowing it's only a matter of time untill she finds me.

"Ah, playing hard to get tonight, sweetie?" Mommy hisses. "Are you... In the wardrobe?"

The doors are wrenched open and I'm dragged out by my arm. Mommy's face is contorted with fury.

"There you are, you insolent little Ijinowarui neko!" She screams, right in my face so I can smell the alcohol on her breath. She's grounding her fangs and I flinch over and over again, tears streaking down my cheeks.

"You naughty, naughty Kuso koneko! What can a mother do but punish her?" I wince as she holds me in between her legs and raises her spatula, about to smack me across my face.

The blow sends me flying across the room untill I hit the bed post and slide down, half-concious. There's a searing pain in my cheek, but I blink dumbly, as if I've endured it many times before.

"Stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid," Mommy chants, exaggerating each word by a whack across my face. Soon it feels like my entire face is on fire and I find myself begging for mercy.

"Mommy, please stop! Mommy, it hurts! Mommy! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I scream, only to receive more blows. More and more, whacks that prevent me from standing and cut my face.

I can feel blood now, trickling from my forehead into my eyes, half blinding me. I sob uncontrollaby untill Mommy stops, drops her spatula, and picks me up by my collar, bringing me close to her face.

"What makes you think I should stop?" She sneers, her eyes bloodshot. "You're MINE! I created you! I can do what I want with you! So stop complaining!" I watch as her paw whips out, claws unsheathed, and feel as it connects with my neck.

I'm sent sprawling, and then I black out.

It's just another normal evening.


	2. Chapter 2

I stand in front of the mirror and stare.

I count three, long red marks burning into my skin on my cheek and touch them gently. It still stings. My jaw feels numb, like it's been jarred, or knocked out of place. I grind my teeth together and wince as the tender skin pulls on my face.

There's a big bruise on my elbow from last night where I knocked against the bed post. Mommy made sure to put me in my dunagrees today, with a long sleeved shirt. I don't know why she bothers. My face looks the worst.

I pick at a scab on my chin absent-mindedly as I listen to Mommy's ragged breath, _in _and _out, in_ and _out _from the next room. It's past midday and Mommy shut me up in my room an hour ago so she could take a nap.

I can't really remember when she started hitting me. It's just how life's always been. I've never met my Papa. Mommy doesn't talk about him. I've never asked. Most of the time, when she's speaking to me, it's to hurt me. So I don't get much chance to talk to her.

I jolt as I accidentally rip open the scab with one of my claws. Tears spring to my eyes as I watch the red bead of blood well up in a dark droplet in the scab. I think that scab was when I got carpet burn on my chin when Mommy pushed me down the stairs. It smarts terribly now.

Mommy sighs softly in her sleep, and I creep towards the door and slowly push it open. The landing is dark. The curtains are still drawn. Three glasses balance on the banister. It's eerily quiet as I peer into Mommy's room.

She's sprawled over her unmade bed, still wearing her crumpled yellow dress from last night. She doesn't look happy, but she looks peaceful. She reminds me of a picture I once saw in a big book of stories, of an angel with a heavenly expression, looking tenderly at the earth like its own child.

But I don't know what loving a child is like. I don't think Mommy loves me. I don't know if I love her.

I tiptoe down the stairs and stand by the window. We live near the sea, right next to the boat docks, because Mommy can never be bothered to go too far to get food.

Speaking of food I'm really hungry. I haven't eaten since...um...not yesterday...I think the day before. Mommy says children don't need food as often as adults. She never told me why. But I've seen other kids out in the street, playing. They look so much bigger than I do. When Mommy undresses me or puts me in the tub for a bath I can count my ribs. It's kind of strange.

I watch the sea waving at me, almost beckoning me to come outside. It looks so nice out in the sunlight. I want to go outside. I want to go play with the children across the street. I want to come home to a nice, hot meal, and then be kissed goodnight rather than being slapped to sleep.

I've never had a lullaby.

I cast a furtive glance over my shoulder when I hear a creak from upstairs, as if Mommy might appear right behind me.

...Mommy?  
>...<p>

...Silence.

I take a deep breath and go to the front door. I've done this before- I drag the wooden stool up to it and clamber on. I'm reaching up, up, up, for the lock-

And then all of a sudden the stool wobbles and I'm falling, falling backwards onto the hard parquet floor. My head whacks against the ground and I'm winded for a few seconds, but the stool has made such a clatter Mommy will have woken up. Biting my lip, I scramble up onto my feet and rush to my bedroom, one paw on the back of my pounding head. I run up the stairs and get to my bedroom door...

Which is wide open.

I walk in, and on the bed sits Mommy. She's holding my blue pinafore in her paws, rubbing it against her cheek. She's crying.

"Mommy?" I say quietly, but her head whips around and the remorse in her eyes dries into anger.

"You useless little bitch," she growled, dropping the pinafore. My legs are trembling as I back into the door. She's on her feet, advancing upon me like a lioness. She doesn't have her spatula but her claws are unsheathed.

All of a sudden she grips me around my neck, picking me up like a rag doll and slams me into the wall. The shock goes through my entire body as I gasp for breath. She's squeezing tighter, tighter on my neck and I can't breathe. My lips feel numb.

"I wish you'd never been born," Mommy sneers, right in my face. She reaches up and graps a fistful of my hair and pulls hard. "You're so stupid, you're so slow. You're so ignorant. You're selfish. I hate you, Katie," her voice is deadly quiet once again. I can't breathe. I feel so tired. My eyes are closing.

Mommy reaches out and pinches my nostrils together.

"I HATE YOU!" She bellows. "AND YOU HATE ME! DON'T YOU?! SAY IT, KATIE, SAY IT! I. HATE. YOU!"

The pressure on my neck slackens and I'm dropped to the floor.

"Mommy..." I'm gasping for air, but I'm still light headed and Mommy's image above my head is spinning. "I...I...I'm sorry,"

_I love you._


End file.
